


Who We Were

by ClasseySpanks



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-08
Updated: 2010-08-19
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:20:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClasseySpanks/pseuds/ClasseySpanks
Summary: Ballad of Ron and Hermione. What happened to Ron and Hermione after the battle and during their mission to Australia to recover her parents? Lots of flashbacks and missing scenes





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Jack fidgeted slightly in the heat. His jacket was uncomfortable but the concealment it provided made it necessary. At least the sun was set; that had given him a little relief.

“Can we just pick someone already?” he heard Will mumble from his right while pretending to look at the magazines in a kiosk.

“I told you. It can’t just be anyone. There’s an art to it-” Jack stopped his low reply when he spotted a young couple walking toward them speaking animatedly to one another.

_“You forgot it?! What do you mean you forgot it? Do you know how much-”_

_“I said I was sorry! It’s not like we can’t without it.”_

_“No, but now it’s going to be such a hassle to talk to people at home and I have no clue where to get more here!”_

_“Well, you wouldn’t let me bring Pig.”_

_“He’s not exactly subtle or practical all the way from here, is he? Besides, this is not my fault. I’m not the one that forgot the fl... the stuff.”_

Perfect. They were bickering, totally unobservant of the world around them. Even better, they were British… tourists. And tourists often carry lots of cash. Yes, they would do nicely. The guy in the couple gave Jack some pause though. He was a few inches taller than himself and a solid 180lbs as far as he could tell.

“He is a ginger though,” Jack muttered to himself smiling. He’d never known a redhead who was good in fight. They were all shite in his experience.

 The young woman was pretty, slight in build and dressed practically for the weather with her hair tied up in a messy bun that looked seconds from exploding. She was nearly a foot shorter then her companion and the guy was leaning over significantly to keep their loud whispers as private as possible; a position that would make it difficult to notice anything else around him.

“There,” he said nudging Will. “Them. You grab her, pull her away from him, and I don’t think he’ll be much trouble.”

Will nodded in acknowledgement and started walking. Jack waited a couple beats then followed. He watched as the couple, after a pause and some pointing, made a detour onto a side street. Will reached the corner pausing to plunge his hand into his pocket, and after a deep breath, fell in step behind them.

Jack rounded the corner after grabbing his blade just in time to see Will deftly latch onto the woman’s arm and fling her away to the side. She stumbled but managed to catch herself on the wall to stop from falling. In that same moment Will placed himself between the redhead and the girl, brandishing the knife in her direction.

“We want your wallet, her purse, and any jewelry or electronics you have,” said Jack coming up behind the guy, holding the knife out for full visual effect.

The couple looked at each other for a long second and Jack suddenly felt unnerved. Neither of them appeared fearful which usually meant things would get ugly. Jack was never particularly fond of stabbing people. But it’s not like it was his fault. If people would just do what he said, no one ever needed to get hurt.

The woman pursed her lips grimly and let a short huff of air out through her nose. The man’s eyes narrowed, and his upper lip twitched in the faintest of snarls as a significant amount of color worked its way up his collar.

“Now!” yelled Jack. With an annoyed look, the woman took her purse off her shoulder and flung it to the ground at Will’s feet then placed her hands in her back pockets. For a second when the man stuck his hand in his pocket, Jack thought he was going to comply and hand over his wallet; but his hand remained tucked in, and he now looked at Jack with a slightly amused look on his face. The eyes were still narrowed but the snarl had somehow morphed into a smirk.

“Oi, I think  _you_  best be on your way. We don’t want any trouble from you and I guarantee you, you don’t want any trouble from us,” the redhead said, stepping closer to Jack.

“Really? Your wallet worth getting stabbed over, then? You think you can take two blokes with knives?”

The man smiled and shook his head, “Me? Oh no, not me. Now her on the other hand,” he said gesturing to the woman with his free hand, “Right nasty piece of work that one is.”

Jack did not have but one confused second to comprehend what he was being told before he heard a feminine voice yell “ _Stupefy!_ ” and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

“I wish we didn’t have to obliviate them. I think they are in need of a bad experience. Might deter them from future stupidity.”

“I actually agree with you, Ron, but they are muggles. They can’t remember any of this…they can’t remember us.”

Ron made a discontented grunt and shoved one of the prone figures in the alley with his foot.

“This isn’t the first time they’ve done this. It won’t be the last either.”

Hermione’s eyes suddenly went wide. “You’re right. They’ve probably done this many times before. I’m sure the police are looking for them.  _Incarcerous_!” Ropes shot out of her wand and entwined around one body. She then repeated the spell on the other.

“Huh? The Po- _leese_?”

“What? Oh, they’re like aurors for bad muggles. We’ll call them from the payphone I saw at the corner and tell them where to find these two.”

“Hermione-”

She glanced up at the soft change in Ron’s tone to see him looking not at her face but somewhere at her side. She followed his gaze to her arm which was a shocking series of dark purple bruises and slightly bloody scratches from where the man’s nails had grazed her.

“Oh, that. I’m fine Ron, really. It’s nothing a simple healing spell can’t fix.”

But he had already stepped toward her and lifted her arm gently by the elbow, the expression on his face sad and contemplative. His large hand wrapped around her arm and he ran the pad of his thumb over the damaged area.

Hermione held her breath, not trusting herself breathe without shuddering. She was sure she would never get used to it. The sight and sensation of it was still new and staggering. It wasn’t so long ago that he shied from any contact, would jerk his hand away at the merest brush, and then avoid her for days after such a petty incident. But Ron touched her much more often now, ever since that awful night at Malfoy Manor… ever since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Her mind drifted back to that kiss three weeks ago. The only kiss actually. In the torrent of events that followed the fall of Voldemort, there was no time to sort out what was going on between them. After the battle they had immediately returned to the Burrow. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had sent them on ahead, promising to be not far behind with Ginny. Harry insisted on staying at Hogwarts in one of the undamaged dorms. To him, Hogwarts had been his first real home and he needed time alone in the comfort of those surroundings. He would not be moved to reconsider.

“Ron?” she had asked tentatively as they neared the landing of his room.

“Hmm? Oh you can borrow whatever you need of Ginny’s. She won’t mind. And you can use Mum and Dad’s bathroom while I’m in this one,” he said absent mindedly, eyes closing and opening slowly as walked into the bathroom. They were both so exhausted.

She nodded and after grabbing some of Ginny’s too long pajamas, proceeded to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s bathroom. A shower! How she had missed such luxuries. Cleansing charms just were not the same as scalding hot water and fragrant soap. She felt in a daze as she washed her hair, intermittently feeling the exhilaration of “We did it! Harry is alive. We’re alive!” and the following crush of “But others are not.”

After the shower, she padded slowly back to Ron’s room and was about to knock when she heard the bathroom door open and turned to see a wall of steam drift toward her

“Oh, hey, I’ve just got to brush my teeth,” he said peering through the haze in a sleeveless shirt and pajama pants, hair still damp from his shower.

Hermione had always been fascinated by Ron’s hair: dry, it was a vibrant red-orange flame; wet it was a much darker burgundy. Normally she loved the way the darker color contrasted with his light blue eyes but today the thick wet mats sickly reminded her of blood. She closed her eyes to try to ward off all the nightmarish images of Ron injured and bleeding that she had been plagued with this entire year. It was no use so she opened her eyes to search his face, to see him alive and whole. What she saw was a boy who appeared much older than his actual age, his eyes red rimmed and tired.

_I guess we both decided to do our grieving in the shower,_  she thought to herself.

“You okay, Hermione?”  He asked her from the door frame, setting down his toothbrush and stepping toward her.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine… it’s just…” she hesitated, thinking of how to word it, “Ron, I haven’t been without either you or Harry for the past year. Though I love Ginny, I just don’t think she would be… the same… for tonight,” She paused taking a breath.

“Can I stay in your room?”

Ron shrugged and reached for his brush again, “Sure, Hermione. I don’t think Mum will be thrilled but I think she’ll make an exception this time. I’ll be there in just a second.”

Hermione closed the door to Ron’s room behind her and stopped, lighting her wand in the darkness. On one side was Ron’s bed and on the other was the cot Harry usually slept in. When she had asked to stay in the room, she had full intentions of sleeping in the cot but now that she was here, she found the pull just too strong. She needed to be near Ron tonight, to have constant reassurance that he was alive; it was the only way she would get any sleep.

No, Mrs. Weasley certainly would not be thrilled.

“ _Engorgio!”_  she whispered extending the bed a few inches in length and several in width. Stealing herself with a little bit of nerve, she crawled under his covers, extinguished her wand, and lay down on her side.

A few minutes later, the old door creaked open and her heart instantaneously sped up as she tried her best to appear asleep.

“ _Lumos!”_ she heard as he walked into the room and advanced toward the bed

Suddenly his steps stopped. Through her closed lids she could see the light from his wand as he swung it from the bed to the cot and back to the bed again.

_Please don’t say anything, don’t ask me what I am doing. Just get in the bed,_ she pleaded silently with him.

After what seemed an eternity she heard him move again and felt the light from his wand increase in intensity until she knew he was just at the edge of the bed. He hesitated there several seconds before finally whispering “ _Nox_ ” and plunging the room into moonlight.

Hermione was finding it difficult to breathe normally as she felt the mattress give way to his weight on it. Though she had done what she could to enlarge the bed within the limited space, it had not been much considering Ron had long outgrown it. Even now she could feel her own breath reflected off his shoulder and his thigh resting against her knees. After a few moments, he turned his head toward her.

“Goodnight, Hermione.” He whispered into her hair and kissed her forehead with the lightest of touches.

She never opened her eyes, knowing that if she did, she was not ready for what she would see. She was too exhausted, emotionally wrung out. This would have to be addressed another day. Close proximity was both what she needed and the most she could handle at the moment. So instead, she wrapped one hand around his nearest arm, and reached down with the other to intertwine her hand with his.

“Goodnight, Ron.”

 

Hermione was startled back to the present by Ron’s sudden movement.  In one swift motion he dropped her arm and delivered a solid kick to the midsection of the assailant who had assaulted her.

“Ronald Weasley! Stop kicking the stupefied people!” she yelled grabbing his arm and pulling him away. “Let’s go before we’re seen. We need to find a hotel before it gets too late.”


	3. Chapter 3

Ron glanced over at Hermione as they made their way to a hotel and internally sighed. Lately, looking at her usually gave him this odd mixture of contentment and heartache. There was so much he had to do where she was concerned. Really, this was to be expected. The progression of their relationship from friendship to the odd limbo it was now had never been easy, especially from Ron’s point of view. Prior to the age of 16 he’d never given much thought to the reasons behind his actions and reactions as far as Hermione was concerned. First year he mostly begrudgingly accepted her friendship; he hadn’t liked how she, with little effort, made him feel stupid and lazy. So in the very mature way 12 year olds are prone to react, he drug his feet and procrastinated more and snapped at her when she had the gall to mention it.

Second year they seemed to have fallen into their roles much more comfortably and Ron started to appreciate how bright Hermione actually was; it was right about then that he cataloged her under the subject of  _‘other’_  in his brain. Both Harry and Hermione fell under  _‘other’_  while the vast majority of the world, he concluded, was in the  _‘average’_  bin. It is unfortunate that this simple observation would wreak so much havoc on the psyche of his future self. It was also during second year that Hermione earned another distinction in Ron’s life; her being petrified was his first experience with the realities of life, death, and evil. Though he had always been fiercely protective of family and friends, it was here that Hermione also began to drift into another category of her own. She was muggle-born which left her open to scum of the wizarding world for derision. Perhaps she needed his help more than others. And seeing as Harry was busy saving the world, he would take looking after Hermione as his special charge along with helping his friends become more familiar with the wizarding world.

Third year started well enough despite Ron often finding himself in detention as the result of either a fight or an outburst in defense of Hermione. He didn’t mind though; since the culprits were usually Malfoy or Snape, they had it coming. Third year was also when they had their first major fight which had been terrible. He wouldn’t even admit it to himself at the time, but he had missed her. None of the trio seemed to function as well without each other. Other people, students and teachers, started to notice too.

Then there was fourth year. Ron cringed inwardly thinking back to the time. That year he’d quarreled with Harry, unable to keep his slowly building jealousy under wraps any longer. He had always felt a bit of the odd man out in the group. Harry was the boy wonder; Hermione the girl genius. And he was… just Ron, the boy, unremarkable even in his own family. All the insecurities he had managed to push aside for years came spewing out and it had taken a dragon to set it right again. Then, just when he had gotten his bearings in friendship with Harry back, Hermione went and tilted his entire planet off its axis.

The Yule ball had been a brutal assault on his definitions and placement of things in his world. His hero was now a villain. His secure circle of friends was under immediate threat. And his best friend was a girl; a bloody beautiful one at that. It was the first time he realized someone one day could take her away from him and Harry, and Viktor Krum, also solidly in the category of  _‘other’_ , might likely be that person.

Looking back, he honestly did not feel it was something as mature as romantic jealously that prompted his vitriol; instead it was the much more petulant tantrum similar to a child taking another’s favorite toy. Hermione was THEIRS, they had found her BEFORE she was small toothed and pretty and they liked her just the same. And then Hermione had said it… he could remember clear as if he were in a pensieve.

_“Well, if you don't like it, you know what you the solution is, don't you?"_

_"Oh, yeah?" Ron had yelled back totally fed up with the lack of reason and loyalty he felt she was showing. "What's that?"_

_“Next time there's a ball ask me before someone else does and not as a last resort!"_

He had been stunned by her reply, his brain sputtering to comprehend. It took nearly a year for him to reconcile her words with his behavior. While he hid behind the definition of friendship and loyalty to keep Hermione away from Krum he realized that out of her two best friends, he was the only one that reacted this way. Harry appeared ambivalent about Hermione’s romantic life while Ron flew into a rage at the mere mention of Viktor Krum. Perhaps he was the only one who wished to keep Hermione close and not share her with the rest of the world? But that would mean… him and Hermione? The thought previously absent from his mind would not leave him alone. Even more startling, she did not even look the same to him now. Before, she was his friend with her crazy hair and ink stained fingers; now he saw big brown eyes with long lashes, a Cupid’s bow mouth with soft smile, and a sway in her hips when she walked. Even when…  _especially_  when they fought he was drawn to her: her eyes would always get bright, her cheeks would flush, and her chest would heave with deep breaths to draw enough air to yell at him. Bloody hell.  Though she had been wrong at the time, she was right now. He wanted to keep her for himself.

To test his new unsettling theory, he imagined Harry and Hermione together. If he didn’t care for her in a romantic way, that shouldn’t bother him as it would keep her close to her friends. He had not been prepared for the deep cutting ache that came with such images. In his head it became all too real. He was the Boy who Lived and she was his brilliant companion. They would be equally suited for one another.

_Why would she choose me over Harry?_  He berated miserably to himself one night.  _She’ll want…she deserves another ‘other’._

He spent the majority of his fifth year trying to rid himself of the feelings he had for Hermione. That was, until the Department of Mysteries. He would never forget the panic he experienced when he awoke in the school infirmary to see Hermione one bed over. He had stumbled out of bed to her side after she had not responded to several calls of her name. Madame Pomfrey had caught him just as he reached her bed.

“Mr. Weasley! You should be in bed! The damage you encountered… tut…” she stated pulling him back toward his cot.

“Hermione!” he had yelled, “Why won’t she wake up?!”  He refused to move and grabbed Pomfrey by the shoulders of her garb. The old nurse looked startled and studied him for a second before she softened her expression and stopped the tug of war back to the bed.

“She will be fine Ronald,” she said, prying his fingers from her. “She is very lucky. But she will be fine.”

“What happened to her?”

“We are not sure but I think it was a hex that caused blunt force to the body. She muted her attacker which lessened the force but it was still devastating. I fear we would have lost her if she had not.”

He wanted to shake Madame Pomfrey, smash the vase at his bedside, and thank the gods all at once. Instead, at that moment a splitting headache with images erupted behind Ronald’s eyes and the nurse led him back to bed.

Those damn brains. To this day a gossamer, filigree pattern of pink scars laced up his arms and across his chest. For a while after the incident he would have visions and memories that were not his own, some of which a 16 year old mind was not ready to experience. The closest he could come to describing it was like having a little piece of your brain that belonged to another person and this person would randomly subject you to some of their memories. Whosever brain that was, was one twisted individual.

And of course after that was…

_Bloody sixth year. Right fucking disaster,_ Ron snorted, disgusted, to himself. Luckily Hermione was too engrossed by the map in her hands to notice.

He could barely think of sixth year without feeling stings of mortification. Things with Hermione were slowly coming together when he realized there might be similar feelings on her side. But then he had to screw everything up so spectacularly… if only Ginny had not… no. It was his fault. He let the humiliation of his inexperience and his unreasonable feelings of betrayal by Hermione totally override his better judgment. In the process he managed only to hurt Hermione, himself, and Lavender and put a hell of a strain on Harry.

But all that paled to the most heinous and most recent of all his violations against Hermione: he had abandoned her. When it had mattered most, he left her and Harry to face Voldemort on their own. In a life riddled with regrets, this was the only one that mattered. How could he gain back her trust? Did he even deserve to? Harry tried to tell him it was the Horcrux, not him but Ron knew differently. Yes, the Horcrux had whispered to him, planted images in his head, and played on his insecurities but he had let it. He didn’t fight those lies with information he knew to be true. He felt he had been weak and his friends nearly paid for it.

Ron swore he’d spend the rest of his life proving to Hermione that he would never leave her like that again. This happened as he sat in a chair next to her unconscious figure at Shell Cottage with fear and relief coursing through him. She was alive but he had not been able to protect her. They had barely been able to rescue her. He watched as Fleur forced potions down her throat and muttered over the deeper gashes from the broken glass of the chandelier.

_I love her._

The thought had come unbidden into his mind and he knew instantly it was true. His affection for Hermione was not just that for a friend, or crush, or even the passing infatuation of teenagers. It was the deep, binding, respectful love of a man for a woman. Somewhere along the way, against his best efforts, he had fallen in love with her. Ron leaned back in his chair feeling a little short of breath and dazed by his own realization. Yes, he would have to be a better man; he would have to be the man she deserved. If only they could both live long enough to give him the opportunity.

Several minutes after Fleur’s initial ministrations, Hermione awoke with a gasp, flailing her limbs about in a panic. Ron immediately left his chair and caught her hands, holding them up to his chest and pulling her towards him.

“You’re safe! You’re safe!” he said gently, just loud enough to get her attention as she looked wide eyed around her. Her eyes finally settled on his and she relaxed a little, still looking mildly in shock and fearful.

“Where are we?” she asked so low he could barely hear.

“Bill and Fleur’s.”

“How?”

“Dobby. He came to us in the cellar and brought Dean, Luna, and Mr. Ollivander here first. They had all been taken by the Malfoys. Harry and I tackled Wormtail when he came to investigate and were able to get his wand. We then went upstairs to get you…Hermione, do you remember anything?”

“I… I remember pain. The Cruciatus. But not much else,” She stated, wincing against the memory.

“Yea, that was Bellatrix. We had disarmed her of her wand when we got in the room but she held you hostage with a dagger. She was going to kill you if we didn’t give up our wands. But Dobby came back and dropped a chandelier on the both of you. I pulled you out and Apparated here; Bill said Harry’s made it too, with Griphook, immediately after us but…”

“What, Ron?” she asked, “What!?”

“It’s Dobby, Hermione,” he paused here to swallow hard, “He’s dead. The bitch stabbed him with that dagger as they were Apparating.”

Ron felt absolutely helpless as her face crumpled and she started to cry. He released her hands and moved his arms around her waist; in the same moment she put hers around his neck and buried her face in his chest and sobbed. Ron thought he must be a terrible person because at that moment, he felt no grief. He was too overcome with relief that he was able to hold her, stroke her hair, and feel her warmth.  She was still alive despite the odds, and he’d never been so grateful for anything.

“Here we are!” announced present day Hermione, pointing to a large building with columns and ambient lighting. “Shall we give it a go?” she asked smiling.

“Yes… yes, I think we should.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Who We Were**

Chapter 4 – Settling In

  


 

Ron stood in front of the lobby fountain admiring how Muggles managed to make things work without magic. They had tracked her parents to Darwin, on the Northern side of Australia, which was mostly Muggle. This suited him just fine as word of what had happened was quickly spreading in the Wizarding community.  The double takes they had gotten at their first international Apparation check point caused Hermione to put glamours on them until they were in Muggle Australia. 

 

He let Hermione handle the check-in. Harry had changed a significant number of galleons to Muggle money and insisted they take it to finance their trip. Hermione only accepted when he pointed out she had used all of her money to fund their search for the Horcruxes since Harry could not move money without arousing suspicion at the time. Ron had not told Hermione, but Harry had given him some money as well. He had initially resisted but Harry convinced him by saying it was really for Hermione. 

 

“Look,” Harry had said as he watched Ron uncomfortably hold the cash in his hand. “Just take it. She refuses to take more then what she used to help us last year and this trip will not be cheap. I just want to make sure every possibility is covered. Just think of it as interest she earned on a loan.”

 

“I don’t like keeping things from Hermione.”

 

“I know, Ron, but… she deserves a little vacation. You both do. So spare no expense, enjoy yourselves.”

 

“Alright but this extra bit,” he said after a long pause, waving the wad of hundreds, “is just a loan, between you and me. It might be some time before I can pay you back, but I will.”

 

Ron was wondering how he was going to be able to purchase anything with Muggle money without arousing her suspicion when he felt a small hand touch him on the shoulder. 

 

“Ready?”

 

“Yea, I’m beat. It’s been a long day.”

 

“I booked us for two nights. We’re on the 6th floor. Should have a nice view of the ocean,” she said handing him a key card.

 

“What’s this?” he asked, turning the thin piece of plastic over in his hands.

 

“Door key. Come on, I’ll show you… have you ever ridden in a Muggle elevator?” she asked smiling.

 

Ron was not a fan of most Muggle transportation devices and he could now add elevators to the list.  But it was worth it just to see Hermione laugh when he darted through the doors, not trusting them to not crush him in the middle.

 

Ron was still thinking on how lovely she looked as she laughed when Hermione let them in the room. It was quite spacious and clean with a door leading out to the balcony and a comfortable bed.

 

One large, comfortable bed. 

 

She noticed him standing in the room, staring.

 

“Oh, yea… sorry. All they had left was the single,” she said, shrugging her shoulders as a faint blush colored her cheeks.

 

“No, no, it’s fine. Really.”

 

She gave him a shy smile and opened her purse withdrawing from it another bag.

 

“Here’s your things. I’m going to take a shower.”

 

Ron nodded and feigned extreme interest in his luggage, only stopping after she was securely in the bathroom.

 

_Bloody hell._

They had slept in the same quarters for nearly a year and even in the same bed that one night. 

 

_But that was different_ he told himself.

 

At that time, he had just had two of the most traumatic days of his life (and that’s saying something) in close succession. When he’d walked in the room to find Hermione in his bed confusion had given way to relief. He didn’t care why she had done it, he was just glad she had. The next morning had been an equally pleasant surprise when he awoke to find her arm and most of her upper body draped across his chest, her head tucked into the curve of his neck. Not quite sure where he was allowed to put his hands, he finally settled for her shoulder and listened to her soft breathing. He’d gladly have stay hidden in there all day if possible. He did not want to face the realities outside his door but fate and Ginny had other ideas.

 

“Ron!” She said quietly letting herself in. When he didn’t answer she sat on the bed and shoved at his knees.

 

“What, Ginny?” he asked, not even opening his eyes. Hermione slept on.

 

“You two might want to get up. I’ve made breakfast.”

 

Ron opened one eye to look at her. “ _You_ made breakfast?”

 

“Yes… well… Mum didn’t so I thought I should.”

 

Ron sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes.

 

“How is she this morning?”

 

“Not well,” Ginny said standing up, “I’d want to dodge her if I were you this morning. She’s looking for something to rail against and she saw you two in here earlier.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much. I let Dad know and he’s coming back to talk to her.”

 

“Coming back?”

 

“George insisted on staying at Hogwarts with… Fred… last night so Dad stayed too. The only reason Mum came home was because she wanted me out of all the mess. Well, that and you were here. ”

 

Ron nodded, “Thanks, Gin. We’ll be down in a few minutes.”

 

Ginny paused at the door, “I’m really glad you’re home, Ron” and continued down the hallway.

 

He managed to slide out from under Hermione without waking her. She looked paler then usual, ever since her encounter with Bellatrix. He thought it might be best to let her rest a bit longer.

 

_Bellatrix… I’ll have to thank Mum for that one. I always thought she was scary but I never knew she could bloody duel._

 

Ron slowly made his way down the stairs but stopped a few short of the bottom when he heard his parents talking.

 

“Arthur, you can’t be saying you’re okay with this? They’re kids! We can’t just condone them sleeping together!”

 

_Oh no. Mum can’t think…_

 

“Molly, you don’t even know if that’s what’s going on,” he said gently, “And they’re not children anymore either.”

 

“But we can’t just ignore it!”

 

“Actually, Molly, I’m sorely tempted to.”

 

Mrs. Weasley sputtered a bit in response, “Why…I…WHAT?! What are you saying?”

 

“I’m saying that we have no idea what they’ve been through this past year. Bill mentioned some of it to me and it sounds like some terrible things happened. If they’ve found a bright spot in all this I don’t know if it’s my job to put limitations on it.”

 

“Arthur! We’re his parents.”

 

“See, I don’t think this is such an awful thing. They’ve known each other for years and Ron cares for her. He would never do anything to intentionally hurt her or take advantage. Hermione’s a bright girl, I’m sure she’s thought through whatever decisions she’s made. And really, what’s the worst that could happen right now? They get careless and there’s a baby? Honestly Molly, after everything that’s happened, a new little Weasley out of all this doesn’t sound terrible to me at all,” he finished, his voice cracking on his last sentence.

 

There was silence for a moment. “What if they’re going too fast, Arthur?” she asked much more softly now, “I don’t want them to do anything they’ll regret. I want her in this family.”

 

“I know, I do too, but they’ll have to figure this out on their own. We’ve known this was coming for a while now. We just have to hope for the best.”

 

Ron remembered the mortification he felt listening to their conversation. His parents had assumed he and Hermione were shagging. And if he understood correctly, his father did not even mind if he knocked her up. It took every ounce of Gryffindor courage he possessed to force himself to walk into the kitchen that morning and Ron had a feeling he would need every ounce of it again to not do something stupid in this hotel room tonight.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5 – A Balcony and a Bed**

  


  


Hermione wiped the steam off the mirror and studied the reflection staring back at her. 

  


_You can do this._

  


“It’s just Ron,” she muttered to herself but instead of making her feel better, the thought made her somewhat panicky. “It’s because it’s Ron,” she grumbled dropping her head in her hands. She had marveled for years now at how she could feel so many different things, so intensely, for just one person. When she was away from Ron, it was like the volume was turned down on her life. If she assigned all her friends a color in her minds eye, he would be the most vibrant red in a sea of pastels. Hermione always flattered herself as level headed, rational, and uneasily provoked... except when it came to Ron. 

  


_He has always been the exception to every rule._

  


Yes, Ron could provoke a great many things from her with little effort. Anger, contentment, embarrassment, admiration, and evena kiss… he was the only person who could have forced such an uncharacteristically spontaneous response from her in the middle of a warzone. Not that he had a clue he was doing so. She knew she had surprised him; she had seen it in his surprised expression the moment she reached up to pull his head down. For that one fearful second he didn’t respond, she nearly pulled away but then his arms wrapped around her and she felt him move to match his lips with hers. She felt fire in her veins as he pressed her closer to him and her mind desperately screamed for her to pay attention to every detail. It was likely going to be her only chance. The walls of Hogwarts were crumbling around them.

  


_But here we are._

  


As she dried her hair with her wand she wondered what would happen tonight in this hotel room. What would she allow him to do? Ron had already proven his ability to make her forget herself. Was she in danger of totally losing any semblance of control?

  


_Would I let him…?_

  


These new images in her head were intoxicating, and this strange ache settled within her as it became difficult to breathe. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have him that close, moving over her. Hermione looked at her flushed reflection and had to laugh a bit.

  


_No, no. Definitely not ready for that. We should take this slow._

  


She looked again at her face.

  


_As slow as possible._

  


She waited until she was a bit less obvious before leaving the little room. Ron was perched on the end of the bed watching the telly with a rather confused look on his face.

  


“All yours!” she announced.

  


“Oh right,” he said getting up, grabbing his bag, and moving into the bathroom. Once he was completely out of the room, she set to putting up wards. Even now she did not feel completely safe.

  


_Will we ever?_

  


After shutting off the TV, Hermione decided to stand on the balcony and let the cool night air relax her. The view was beautiful and she could hear the waves rolling in from across the little park down below. Her parents were out there, nearby. After nearly a year, she was so close to seeing them again. There was giddy excitement wrapped up in fear at the thought of it. What if they were angry? She had not been completely honest about the process when she had talked to them. She had justified it at the time by telling herself it was the only way; they were Muggles and had no means of protecting themselves.

  


“Wicked view,” came Ron’s voice from her left as he leaned against the railing, his arm brushing her shoulder. 

  


_When on earth did he get so tall?_

  


The smile on his face turned to a concerned frown as glanced down at her. “Are you alright?”

  


“What if they’re angry at me for doing this to them, Ron? They’ve lost a year of their lives.”

  


“Losing one year of life is better then losing it completely. Hermione, we saw what they did to your home. It wasn’t an easy choice but it was the right one.”

  


Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. Her home was a mess when they found it. Not long after they disappeared on their search for the Horcruxes, Death Eaters had come looking for Mr. and Mrs. Granger as expected. In retribution for being thwarted in their goal, they had burned the inside of several rooms out, destroying nearly everything inside. Hermione’s room had ‘MUDBLOOD’ scorched into the walls over and over again. All of her furniture was tossed about the room. Her heart broke when she spotted her empty bookcase with a large pile of ashes at its base. The Deatheaters had burned every one of her beloved books.

  


“After everything…I just can’t bear the thought of them being angry with me. I told them it would be only for a little while, a couple of months. And I didn’t tell them I was going to make them forget me.”

  


“I don’t think we can expect them to be happy about the situation but you’re their daughter. They’ll get over it.”

  


She still seemed unsure.

  


“You could blame it all on me if you’d like. Your father has been giving me the evil eye the last few times we’ve met anyway,” he said grinning. She gave him a little smile and he continued more seriously, “From what Kingsley told me, they will likely be a little disoriented for sometime after you give them their memories back. I wouldn’t take anything that happens in that time to heart if you can help it.”

  


“Can you imagine what it will be like for them? What if I waved my wand at you and you suddenly remembered this whole other life… if I said you had a child you hadn’t even known existed? What would you think?”

  


“In that scenario Hermione, I’m fairly certain my only thought would be ‘Mum is going to kill me.’” He replied with a roguish grin.

  


She gave him a disapproving look and he shoved her lightly with the side of his body until she cracked a small, reluctant smile.

  


“It’ll all turn out okay, eventually. You’ll see.”

  


“I hope so,” she said quietly dropping her chin, allowing her hair to fall in a curtain between them. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her intently. He brushed her hair back with his right hand and touched her shoulder with the other, turning her towards him.

  


“It will but even if it doesn’t, you’ll always have me and Harry. And I’m kind of a package deal: pay for one Weasley and get the rest for free, whether you like it or not” he said placing one hand on her face and sliding his thumb across her cheekbone. The lump in her throat prevented her from doing anything but nodding and he pulled her into a hug. She turned to face the ocean as he entwined his fingers in her hair, resting his hand on her neck. They stood like that for a while, she listening the thrum of his heartbeat as it matched the rhythm of the ocean.

  


“Ron?”

  


“Hmm?”

  


“What do we do now?”

  


Ron was a little alarmed by her question. Was she asking for an itinerary of their nighttime activities? 

  


_Right. Hug at 10:30pm. Snog from 10:45-11:45._ he mused to himself. Ron decided not to share his thoughts.

  


“Huh?” was all he replied.

  


Hermione pulled away to walk inside and sit on the bed. Ron leaned on the balcony doorframe and watched her, waiting for her to continue.

  


“I mean, I know it was Harry’s destiny to defeat Voldemort but it sort of became our’s too... though it might be more accurate to say that _helping_ Harry became our destiny.”

  


Ron nodded his agreement, encouraging her to continue.

  


“But we’ve done that. And to be honest Ron, I never expected to live.”

  


He winced away from her comment but understood. He too had resigned himself when they decided to break into Gringotts.

  


“So, it’s done. What do we do now?”

  


Ron was thoughtful for a moment before replying.

  


“We’re doing the only thing we’re supposed to.”

  


“What do you mean?”

  


“We’re living.”

  


Hermione’s brow furrowed. She had wanted a concrete answer, some activity she could throw herself into to put the past year behind her.

  


“I’m not following.”

  


“You know… we’re supposed to rebuild, finish school, get jobs-” He hesitated a fraction of a second before continuing, “get married, have kids, grow old… do everything Fred, Colin, and the others can’t.”

  


She contemplated his words for a moment.

  


“You’re right,” she said sighing heavily. “I… I just feel so out of sorts. Everything is changing so fast… it’ll never be the same. When we left, we and everyone at school were still kids. Now we’re all so old. You saw Dennis Creevy. You know what I’m talking about.”

  


He did. Though just fifteen, Dennis had been instrumental in organizing and designing the memorial to the fallen at Hogwarts. When Dennis came to the Burrow last week to get the Weasley family’s input on the project, Ron had seen the change in him. He was friendly and polite but no longer carried the lightness in his step or the silly demeanor he once did. Even his face seemed to have lost the roundness of youth.

  


“I knew this would happen eventually. I just wasn’t prepared for it to happen so abruptly. Am I making any sense?”

  


“Hermione, you’re the most logical person I know. You might have to explain it to me using smaller words sometimes, but in the end, you always make sense,” he said, coming to sit next to her.

  


After appearing to struggle for a moment, she continued, “Even you, me, and Harry… we’re not the same are we?”

  


Ron again knew what she meant. The dynamics of their relationship were changing at an accelerated rate, especially since Harry and Ginny were back together. It had taken him awhile to notice the changes when he came out of the haze of grief over Fred, but things were definitely different. He chose his next words carefully.

  


“Everything that is happening with Harry and us started years ago. This isn’t a bad thing. We couldn’t stay that way forever…”

  


“When we were younger I used to imagine it would,” she interrupted, smiling. “We’d all live in a cottage near the Burrow and charm it to have our own separate wings to live in. Yours would be painted in garish orange with flying Chudley Cannons everywhere; Harry’s would be made to resemble a Quidditich pitch-”

  


“And let me guess, yours would be a wall to wall library?”

  


“Of course,” she replied, still smiling at the memory. “We’d grow old there together having our adventures all the while.”

  


He smiled as he envisioned a twelve year old Hermione planning out their lives. A thought suddenly occurred to him.

  


“Do you think they’re over?” he asked.

  


“What’s over?”

  


“Our adventures?”

  


“One can only hope. I don’t want to go through anything like this again… but to tell the truth, no, I don’t think they are. I don’t think Harry, us, or Ginny for that matter are made for a quiet life.”

  


“I’m not sure whether or not to be happy about that,” he said. 

  


“And you, are you okay with how _everything_ is changing?” she asked with a sidelong glance.

  


“Well, seeing Harry and Ginny together is always a bit unsettling, especially since they’ve gone from nothing to really serious in about 5 seconds flat. But I’m happy if they’re happy. I’m sure the urge to throttle him will pass…eventually,” he said, muttering the last bit under his breath.

  


“And what about us?” she asked, peering up at him through her lashes. Ron swallowed hard. He knew how he felt and what he wanted but he’d never been great with expressing any such thing.

  


“I…We…uh….” he started and stopped, running his hands through his hair. 

  


“I like how things are going.” He tried again, speaking each word slowly. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”

  


He could tell by her face that his response, while not totally upsetting, wasn’t exactly what she was hoping to hear. She gave him a half-hearted smile.

  


“I’m glad you’re here too. We should get to sleep. Early day tomorrow,” she replied, standing up and turning away from him.

  


Ron felt panicked. She was shutting him out like she did every time he hurt her feelings.

  


_Do something you wanker!_

  


He snatched her trailing arm and she turned to him with one eyebrow cocked in surprise. 

  


“Hermione, you know I’m rubbish at this stuff. What I’m trying to tell you is that I want us…I want you to…” he hesitated again thinking about how to put it. Want them to be a couple? For her to be his girlfriend? The words seemed wholly inadequate. Lavender had been a girlfriend. Hermione was infinitely more then that already. It took him a moment more to realize he had already said exactly what he struggling to say. 

  


“I want us.” He repeated firmly, looking her in the eyes. That’s when he saw it. The genuine smile that lit up her face told him he had finally said the right thing.

  


“Me too,” she said. “We should really get to sleep though. I’m not handling the time change all that well and it’s been a very long day.”

  


“Right,” he said, suddenly feeling the weight of the day’s travel upon him. His weariness vanished almost as quickly as it came when he watched Hermione climb into bed. He took one steeling breath and climbed in on the other side while she extinguished the lights. The room was still lit by the moon through the balcony doors. 

  


He wanted to kiss her but was unsure exactly how to get started. He was unnerved by the thought of just shoving his face into her personal space and hoping for the best. He was heartened when he saw she had lain near the center of the bed

  


His calf brushed her foot as he settled in and she immediately jerked it away.

  


“Sorry,” he mumbled.

  


“No, it’s okay. I’m just ticklish,” she said, moving her foot back over, tucking it under his calf.

  


“Really?” he asked, but Hermione heard the teasing in his tone and grabbed her wand from the nightstand before he could move.

  


“Oh no you don’t! I hate it. I’m not responsible for what bodily injury you may incur should you decide to tickle me,” she threatened, sitting up and backing to the edge of the mattress.

  


“You’re only scary if you’re armed,” he said, knowing that wasn’t true, and lunged for her wand hand. His improved reflexes as a keeper served him well as he quickly redirected her jinx to the ceiling but the momentum pushed her backward and she grabbed at him to prevent from falling. He, unprepared for this, continued forward and they rolled off the bed smashing the bedside lamp on the way down. Ron landed unceremoniously on his back, knocking the wind out of him, while Hermione was sprawled out on top.

  


“Merlin that hurt… Hermione?” he asked after she said nothing and neglected to move. She had her face down on his chest, her body shaking.

  


_Oh no. She’s crying._

  


“Hermione I’m sorry! Are you okay?” he asked placing his hand on the back of her head.

  


She nodded wordlessly.

  


Ron felt ill and was unsure what to do until she lifted her face, taking in a huge amount air. She was laughing. 

  


_Thank Merlin._

  


“You have all the grace of a gorilla,” she said smiling.

  


“You’re no gazelle either,” he replied, mock indignation on his face.

  


She was laughing when suddenly her face became serious.

  


“What is it?” he asked.

  


“I just realized I never thanked you.” 

  


“For what?”

  


“Pulling me out of Malfoy Manor.”

  


“Oh…that…it was nothin’,” he replied as his face started to burn a little.

  


“No it wasn’t. You and Harry could have escaped but you came for me. You and Harry should have escaped really. You took a great unnecessary risk to get me.”

  


“Unnecessary!?” he snapped.

  


“-to the mission. You didn’t have to do that.”

  


“Hermione, if you think Harry and I were remotely capable of finishing it without you, you’re mad. You’re completely off it if you’d ever think we’d leave you behind. I did that once and I’d rather stand in _fiend fyre_ then feel that way again.”

  


Hermione examined him closely.

  


“I believe that,” she said quietly. 

  


Ron felt a rush of relief. She had already said she’d forgiven him for leaving her and Harry in the woods but he didn’t believe it until now. She looked lovely laying over him, all of her long hair draped along one shoulder, brushing his cheek. Before he could overthink it or the moment was lost, Ron leaned up and pressed his lips to hers. She seemed only momentarily startled and then responded in kind. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he moved his hands to her back, his fingers just barely brushing the skin at the hem of her shirt. The feeling tickled slightly in an unexpected way and she unconsciously shifted her weight against him. Ron responded by rolling her over onto her back

  


Hermione felt intoxicated, her senses overwhelmed. She had been kissed before, by Viktor and once by a Muggle boy when she was on holiday with her parents. Kissing Viktor was enjoyable, but more for the excitement and uncertainty. She had never been kissed before and the thrill of the experience had been the biggest draw. Afterward, most of their kisses were…for a lack of a better word… chaste. She liked it but Hermione felt no inclination to move beyond just kissing and holding hands. The boy from her summer trip to the beach had been a similar experience.

  


Once again, Ron was the exception. Now her heart pounded and she felt as if he was taking the life from her and breathing it back in, creating a strange ebb and flow of emotion. She was light headed and dizzy and she felt every inch of her being on high alert. She ran her hands through his hair, relishing in that she finally could. He responded similarly, moving his hands up to her head.

  


“Ow!” he shouted jerking his hand back.

  


“What?”

  


“I cut my hand on a piece of the lamp” 

  


Hermione sat up and retrieved her wand, healing his hand and repairing the lamp.

  


“Better?”

  


“Yea… thanks. Hermione?” he asked, staring at a point past her.

  


“What?”

  


“It’s nearly 1am.”

  


“No!” she hissed turning to look at the clock as well then sighed in defeat.

  


“We really need to get some sleep.”

  


“Yea…” Ron replied frowning.

  


Neither of them moved.

  


Finally Ron stood up and extended his hand to Hermione. 

  


“Come on then. Tomorrow is important. I think you’ll feel better about it if you’re rested.”

  


Hermione smiled to herself. She liked this new Ron since his return in the forest. This Ron was getting in the habit of thinking what might be best for her, instead of just what he wanted. She placed her hand in his.

  


“Right. Let’s get some sleep.”

  


  


  


 


End file.
